


Save (You)

by Nununununu



Series: Comfortween 2020 [24]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfortween 2020, Day 24, Feelings Realization, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Internal Conflict, M/M, ManDadlorian, Near Death Experiences, Peril, Pre-Relationship, Rare Pairings, Robot/Human Relationships, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Trust Issues, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27247798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: Feeling the little one breathe is –Frankly, it’s everything.He has IG-11 to thank for that.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin & IG-11, Din Djarin/IG-11
Series: Comfortween 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948441
Comments: 7
Kudos: 86
Collections: Comfortween 2020





	Save (You)

**Author's Note:**

> 24\. Let's Get Dangerous  
> For the prompt _recovery from a more serious injury or illness. Amputation, gunshot wound, injury resulting in chronic pain, near death experience._
> 
> Deals with a non-graphic and non-detailed serious injury to the child.

He can’t speak.

The child –

No. _No_.

The child –

“You must allow me to take him,” IG-11 cuts across the uncharacteristic tangle of Din’s thoughts. There’s a core of unyielding determination in his voice, “If you seek to prevent me, I will be forced to remove you.”

“To – remove me,” The words sound unfamiliar, torn from his chest as they are; he can’t stop looking down at the child in his arms. His HUD is telling him – is telling him –

He waits for the droid to shoot him. Instead IG-11 does something unexpected.

He says, “Please.”

“Please?” Din’s head jerks up. The droid is standing there, systems audible, agitation apparent in what little Din can read of his body language. It is a strange thought, to consider that IG-11 feels something, that a _droid_ feels something, but –

Right now, it seems understandable. Din, too, is feeling something. He shoots a near frantic look back down at the motionless figure of the child in his arms.

“I must care for this child,” There is increasing static in IG-11’s voice, but he still doesn’t go for his weapons, “I –” He pauses. Is he glitching? “I – care for this child.”

_Because you are programmed to,_ Din thinks, and yet the correction strikes at him in a way he can’t ignore.

The small body he holds remains still and unresponsive. Silent. Those large eyes closed and ears lax. Tiny hands hang empty at the child’s sides; his skin faded to grey.

He’s so cold. Barely breathing, as if each all but imperceptible inhalation may be the last.

But –

But Din knows. That IG-11 _does_ care for the kid, whether he’s programmed into it or not. That the droid would never do anything to harm the child; that he appears, in fact, desperate to help. That there’s the possibility he might be _able_ to help, when nothing Din has tried has worked.

If there’s a chance, he must take it. _They_ must take it.

“Here,” Din’s eyes sting. However much he tells himself he can trust the droid’s intentions, letting go of the small body to pass the kid over is still one of the most difficult things he’s ever had to force himself to do.

“Thank you,” It’s not his imagination IG-11’s voice is even softer than it usually is since his reprogramming, is it. As soft as when he almost died to save the child.

“ _Please_ –” Emotion blocks Din’s throat. His arms feel wrong for the loss of the child’s weight, slight as it is.

“I will do my utmost to save him,” IG-11 is already turning away, setting the child down carefully on the cloak Din hastily pulls off to cushion him, mechanisms whirring as he launches into motion, examining the small body, applying bacta, stating the results of his scans and referencing his progress out loud.

It only occurs to Din some minutes into it that this is undoubtedly for his benefit.

He’s at the child’s side in an instant when IG-11 mentions the kid’s heartbeat. There is a slight rise and fall to the tiny chest now, and he’s no longer that awful grey.

“His condition has already improved,” IG-11 confirms, “He is unconscious and has much healing left to do, but he is no longer as near death.”

Din’s legs go out from under him, without his intention at all.

“ _Thank you_ ,” He flails a gloved hand out, catching hold of the droid’s lower arm equally unintentionally as IG-11 swivels to look at him as if in surprise at his sudden descent, “I’m –”

“Yes?” Systems whir as IG-11 considers Din where he’s slumped on the ground, his voice taking on a curious note.

Some part of Din feels that he should deny this – a _droid_ feeling curious about something; possibly even a little fascinated – but it’s there. The fact this is about _him_ is –

“I’m sorry,” He gets out instead of allowing himself to pursue that thought or any potential reaction he might have to it.

Not now, anyway.

“If you are apologising for not passing the child over into my care immediately –” IG-11 angles himself down lower so he’s not looming over Din, who waits to be berated.

It’s what he deserves.

“It was understandable,” IG-11 finishes instead, and there’s that softer edge to the words again. Din has no idea why it’s aimed towards him.

Well.

He supposes his reaction to the kid’s improvement could make him appear, to a nurse droid, to require – comfort. Although _he_ certainly isn’t IG-11’s charge.

Nor does he need comforting. Obviously.

When IG-11 rises back up with a hiss of hydraulics, Din refuses to acknowledge something inside of him that tracks the reopening up of the space between them. He likewise refuses to acknowledge an even smaller something buried even deeper inside of him, that seeks to deem this a loss.

“The bacta has taken effect enough for you to hold him again now,” After another series of scans and careful checks, IG-11 returns in moments with the child carefully wrapped in Din’s cloak in his arms. Easing himself carefully back down again, he passes the child over so Din can cradle the small bundle against his chest. Feeling the little one breathe is –

Frankly, it’s everything.

Tugging off a glove, Din lets himself touch that small cheek, the soft head; the physical contact reassuring in a way he doesn’t question. The child murmurs faintly and there’s that stinging at the corners of Din’s eyes once again.

He can’t help but instinctively stiffen when metal digits very gently graze a long ear, but – it’s all right. It’s all right. Thanks to IG-11. The droid’s not about to go try to sacrifice himself again, they’re not in immediate danger, and he saved the kid.

He saved him.

“You – do care for him,” Din makes himself say aloud what he knows to be truth, his voice coming out low. He glances up at the droid, “Not just because you were programmed into it.”

“I believe so,” IG-11’s answer is a little slow, as if it is the first time he has had cause to consider such a thing. Perhaps it is. His gaze is steady on Din. “After all, no one programmed me into caring for _you_.”

He – does? He can?

Regardless of the fact he’s clad in his helmet, Din finds he has to look away, clearing his throat, “That’s not –”

“Possible?” IG-11’s tone has regained that curious note. If he were organic, Din would even think him intrigued. “If I am capable of caring for the child of my own accord, then why would it not be?”

“Mm,” He should get up. He should certainly move away. A riot of conflicting emotions churns inside him that Din has to work to force back down. Because –

Because if IG-11 is capable of caring in some way for _him_ , then doesn’t it follow –

No. No it doesn’t follow. But still.

Din can’t admit it.

But still, in that deep down place inside him that shouldn’t exist –

He does care for the droid, doesn’t he.

“Hm,” This realisation should be entirely objectionable; he should rebel against it with everything that he is.

Instead Din finds that he looks at his own bare fingers on the child’s brow and at that metal hand still gently stroking the kid’s soft ear, and feels his hand seek to stir in the temptation to brush against durasteel.

_Kriff._

“Muh,” Stirring, the kid scrunches his nose as if sensing the turmoil of Din’s thoughts.

“Do you require healing yourself?” IG-11 proffers that bacta spray.

Din can reach out to push _that_ away, and so he does, “I’m uninjured.”

“For once,” IG-11 agrees and if that’s a touch of humour there, then –

Then that’s what it is.

Never mind that a nurse droid should not have the capacity to tease or joke. Never mind that, these days, there is an ever greater range of emotion in the droid’s voice.

Never mind that some of his mannerisms have come to remind Din of Kuiil or even the child at times, as if IG-11 has adopted some of their ways into his speech and movement routines.

Never mind that Din has – on more than one occasion now – pretended not to notice when the droid has emitted a sound very much like an electronic version of his own sigh.

“Yeah,” Din agrees – to IG-11’s comment, to his observation about the ways in which the droid is still learning and adapting, just as Kuiil had intended, and –

And – just perhaps – to the rest of it.

He remains sitting there like that for some time, until the child stirs even further and blinks awake to make his desire for food known to his caretakers, and IG-11 remains likewise.

If their hands draw closer to each other’s occasionally during this time, neither of them mentions this.


End file.
